


Only In France. No, Only In Paris!

by jt417



Category: Gentleman Jack (TV)
Genre: (power) bottom Ann, Dirty Talk, F/F, Lesbian Sex, Rough Sex, So Much Dirty Talk, Spanking, Strap-On, Top Anne, Tribadism, future chapters will definitely be pwp, plot if you squint, some humiliation kink, some praise kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-13 09:09:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19248136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jt417/pseuds/jt417
Summary: Ann discovers a book of French erotica Anne's been hiding, and discovers something very unusual.The strap-on fic the ann(e)dom deserves between these two.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> someone needed to get the ball rolling with strap fics, so here we go. not sure how many chapters it'll go, but it'll all be smut soOoOOoOOo have fun lads.
> 
> big ups to knownochill for beta-ing again, you're the real one
> 
> also fig i told you were banned from reading this, gtfo ;)

Married life had been everything Anne could have wanted. Waking up with Ann curled into her every morning was bliss. The girl would open her sleepy eyes slowly, nuzzle into the older woman’s neck, and breathe deeply before placing soft kisses against her neck. It pleased Anne to see her new wife grow more comfortable and confident in their relationship. Small displays of affection yielded to larger ones, and timid blushes made way for bolder kisses.

Her newfound comfort surprisingly led to a persistent inclination for bawdy talk. While touching each other late at night, Ann would bite Anne’s ear and lowly growl all the things she wanted Anne to do to her. _Faster, Anne. Right there, rub my clit right there darling. Oh lord, Anne, a-another… put another in now. Harder._

“Where did such a proper girl learn such vulgar talk,” Anne chuckled softly one night.

Ann shrugged mischievously. “I just know what I want,” she replied. Anne had never been so pleasantly surprised.

But perhaps the most interesting development in Ann’s sexual appetite was her desire to have Anne inside her. Anne woke up more than once with two of her fingers tucked inside Ann’s warm queer, as she slept soundly. The first time it happened, the blonde explained all too innocently, “Well I couldn’t sleep, I just kept thinking how empty I felt without you and well… you were asleep, I wasn’t going to wake you!” But it happened again and again. Ann just preferred having something inside her.

**

Ann wandered through a mostly vacant Shibden looking for her good pen. Anne had giddily hidden it from her yesterday, in a successful bid to get her to stop drawing and come to bed. However Ann had only now remembered the trusty pen was gone, with Anne long-gone for her coal beds by now.

Ann walked into Anne’s office, eyes scanning the room for a good hiding spot. She ran her hand along the top of the bookcase, peered in a few ornamental boxes, and finally landed behind her wife’s dark wood desk.

She started yanking open drawer after drawer, rifling through Anne’s hidden treasures and papers. Each drawer was so unbelievably cluttered Ann wondered how her wife could remember where everything was, nonetheless find anything. But the bottom drawer immediately grabbed her attention. It was empty, except for a small, plain book. The title was simply _Josephine et Marie._

Anne curiously picked the book up opened it to the first page, where a handwritten note was inscribed:

 

_“My dear AL (or shall I say, my dear Josephine?), I’ll always cherish our time in Paris. Remember it fondly, for I know I shan’t possibly be able to forget. Your dearest MB, or your dearest Marie, 1826”_

 

Ann’s nose crinkled. Who in God’s name was Josephine? Or rather, who was Marie? What was this book she was holding!?

Ann stood and craned her neck to the side make sure no one was coming up the stairs, then quickly looked out the window behind her to make sure Anne wasn’t walking up. She bit her lip hesitantly, but sat back down and flipped through the pages, printed in small neat French.

Her eyes bulged in disbelief.

_Josephine forced her leather cock hard into Marie’s wet opening. Her lover panted in ecstasy, and lustily begged for more. Josephine was only too pleased to oblige, and gripped her firm hips harder to steady her purchase. The soft leather felt wonderful against Josephine’s arse, a layer of pleasure she scarcely knew she’d enjoy so thoroughly._

Ann snapped the book shut, blood rushing to her face. “What…” she gasped to herself. She looked up again, and out the window again. Still alone. She shook her head in disbelief. “I…what?” she whispered again, to the empty room. She hesitated. She should just put the book back in its drawer, she thought… as turned to another page.

_“Josephine, your cock is so perfect,” Marie moaned in delight. Her beautiful lover had mounted her from behind, roughly taking her as animals mate in heat._

The book dropped out of Ann’s hands. She had never felt so utterly vexed. A leather cock? What on Earth was this book? Where did it even come from?

Anne’s words from so many months ago suddenly came rushing back. _Only the French. Only in France—no, only in Paris!_ This odd pornography surely was the work of such a salacious and unusual country, she figured. But what on earth could a leather cock mean? Perhaps slang she didn’t understand, or maybe her French wasn’t as good as it once was? She must have mis-translated. But Marie and Josephine were women’s names, that much she knew.

Ann looked at the book laying on the ground. She stared at it for a few minutes. _A leather cock…_ The phrase played in her mind again and again.

“I wonder,” she mused softly to herself. She hesitantly reached down and picked it up, took a deep breath, and began to once again flip through the pages, this time not stopping to read the confusing passages. She kept turning pages, looking for something she hoped might explain—and then there it was.

An illustration.

An unmistakable illustration, to be sure.

There on the page, entangled in sexual passion, were two women; long haired, full bosomed women. And something unusual appeared to be wrapped around one’s hips. Some sort of belt, or perhaps a harness, and it held a phallic object. The woman in the harness was behaving as a man in the drawing. She stared at it for what felt like ages. Her eyes kept tracing the object, how it connected to the woman wearing it, how it entered her lover. Ann had never seen anything like it.

But oh, how she wanted to. And she’d make sure her wife knew it.

**

Ann had gone straight to the bedroom after dinner, which struck Anne as unusual. Normally her wife enjoyed reading by the fire, or played a few rounds of backgammon with Marian or Aunt Anne. She hoped the fragile woman wasn’t falling ill again. After an hour of post-dinner chat with her family she retired for the night.

Anne found Ann sitting up in bed in her nightclothes, seemingly staring into space. She locked the door behind her and began undoing her cravat and unbuttoning her waistcoat. “Are you alright, my darling?” she asked.

Ann suddenly snapped to attention, and smiled widely. “Yes of course, Anne.” She smiled. “I feel wonderful in fact. I had a rather interesting day.”

“Oh?” Anne grinned with relief, and continued removing her clothes. She caught the blonde nodding animatedly out of the corner of her eye. She was radiating a sort of giddy excitement. _Curious_ , Anne mused, getting down to her breaches and nightshirt. “Do tell.” Knowing Ann was in good health was all that mattered. Anne felt comfortable letting her mind wander as her wife would no doubt prattle about some trivial pursuit she’d performed that day.

“Well,” Ann started slowly. She toyed with her chemise. “You see, I read such a wonderfully exotic book today. And I just feel so enlightened.”

“How marvelous, my love. It’s so important to stay informed.” Anne said mindlessly, draping her clothes on her desk chair before sitting down. She leaned over her journal and flipped it open, running her finger down the page to refresh her mind of her last entry.

Ann noticed Anne’s lack of attention. “Indeed. And I’m proud to say how informed I’ve become. I learned more of Paris and the unusual things they do there.”

“Mmm yes, fascinating city,” Anne murmured. She picked up her quill and ran through the day’s events in her mind, making sure she had the sequence right before she began her entry.

Ann cleared her throat. “Oh yes, fascinating city, Josephine.”

Anne’s quill dropped.

Ann smirked.

The silence was thick in the room. “Wh-what did you say, my love?” Ann had her attention now.

“Josephine. That is how you pronounce it, _oui_?” Her voice saccharine sweet.

Another silence. Anne got up slowly, took a deep breath, and turned around. Ann’s eyes shined boldly at her. _Well,_ Anne thought, _I can be bold too._ “ _Oui_. _Josephine_. And what, pray tell, did you learn... _Marie?_ ”

“I think you ought to come to bed, and I’ll tell you all about it,” Ann said with a soft smile. The older woman chuckled to herself and shook her head in disbelief, before crossing the room to join her wife in bed.

“Did it confuse you terribly?” Anne asked, wrapping an arm around the blonde. Ann noticed she was blushing. She didn’t think she’d ever seen her wife blush before. She curled into her, resting her head on Anne’s chest.

“Yes, at first. But then I found the drawing in it. It was…mesmerizing…” She paused. “What is that called?”

Anne pressed a kiss to the top of Ann’s head. “The French call it a _godemiché._ It’s a sort of… strapped-on penis. I’d used one with an old lover… Maria, the one from Paris, I think I mentioned her to you.” Ann nodded. “She rather enjoyed me wearing one, and so bought me the book as a token of affection before I had to return to Shibden.”

“Do you, erm,” Ann cleared her throat, suddenly thick with lust, “do you still have one?” Anne looked down at her. “A _good-ay…_ uhh, _gud-meesh…_ a thing?”

Anne shook her head tersely. “No. I didn’t enjoy it much to be quite frank.”

Ann frowned. _Oh, that won’t do_. “Why not?” she asked innocently, doing her best to conceal her desires. She ran her hand up and down Anne’s chest.

 _Oh good lord, she’s aroused. And she thinks she’s hiding it._ “It’s artifice. A foolish display. You aren’t inside your lover; the _thing is._ You aren’t giving her pleasure; the _thing_ is. Now what fun is there to be had then, hmm?” _That should settle that._

Ann laughed. “Oh Anne. For such a forward-thinking woman you can be so _utterly_ close-minded at times, d’you know that?” She rolled herself on top of her wife, mounted her lap, and rested her forehead against Anne’s. “I suppose Miss Barlow never used the thing on you, did she?”

Anne rubbed her nose against Ann’s. “Of course not.”

Ann smiled coyly. “Then you surely can’t speak to where the eroticism lays. For I’m certain… _quite_ certain in fact,” she murmured, rolling her hips lazily into Anne, “that there is immense pleasure in knowing this _thing,_ as you so disdainfully call it, is only there because _you_ put it there.”

Anne swallowed thickly. She placed her hands on her young wife’s hips, helping her rock more firmly. “Oh?”

Ann nodded and bit her lip. She pressed her hips harder, her clit catching Anne’s protruding hip bone. “Mhmm. And I’m quite certain you’d have fun, my love.” Anne had lost all focus, staring down at her wife’s crotch, shrouded by her chemise. That distant look wouldn’t do for Ann. _Time to play dirty then._ “Don’t you want to take my cunt?” Anne’s eyes snapped upwards at the use of such a vulgar word. Ann’s pupils were blown, all traces of blue replaced by arousal-soaked black. “Don’t you want to watch me take you in, inch by inch… knowing it’s _your cock_ filling me…”

“Ann,” Anne growled, bucking her hips once, forcefully.

“You know my queer likes to have something to… _hold on to_ … when we make love,” Ann panted, humping her wife steadily. Anne was all too familiar with the sensation, having felt Ann’s walls clamp around her fingers with desperation time and again. “With this you could hold me in your arms and still be inside me, stretching my hole like only you can.”

Anne was panting heavily. She bit Ann’s neck hard, causing her to squeal with delight at the pleasured pain. Ann started rubbing her clit hard into Anne’s hip bone, wrapping her arms tightly around her wife’s neck to keep them close as she approached her orgasm.

“I’m aching for it Anne… Aching for you to take me. I-I want to feel you inside me when we rut against each other.” Anne bit her neck harder, clutched her tighter. “So often I can’t even sleep unless I have you filling me up. I want you to mount me like an _animal_ —“ the simple quoting of the book sent Ann over the edge. She shuddered violently, clutching Anne close as she rode her orgasmic bliss.

Both women were panting, the only sound breaking the otherwise quiet Halifax night. They stayed in each other’s arms as the aftershocks sputtered through Ann’s slim body.

Finally, the younger woman broke the silence. She licked the shell of Anne’s ear slowly, felt her tense with arousal. “So, dear wife…”she murmured, “could you, perhaps… write a letter to your dear friend down in Paris?”

There was only a short pause. “It’ll be done at first light.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A special delivery from Paris arrives at Shibden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains just bit of humiliation kink, namely the consensual use of calling Ann a whore. If that's not your thing, I wouldn't advise reading this.
> 
> An extremely big and heartfelt thank you to the GJ Discord crew for helping with research. You’re my heroes.
> 
> Hat tip knownochill, potato, and kelly for the various stages of beta <3
> 
> Can confirm kitchen oils were used as lube (yam, olive, rose), so I kept it vague bc *shrugs*

Anne had sent a letter to Maria in Paris immediately upon waking up. Ann had made sure of it, all but pushing her out of their bed when the sun rose. She detailed her request for a fine black leather harness, and a godemiché to be 15cm long, with a 4cm circumference, which she quickly scratched out and replaced with a 5. _She wants to be stretched, she shall have it_ , Anne though wickedly.

The days passed at an excruciating pace for Ann. Night after night, she’d find herself on Anne’s lap, rutting anxiously into her. “Think of all the places you could bend me over,” she’d pant softly. “Oh, and think how deep you’d get, my love. You’d be somewhere inside me no one has ever been. Only _you._ ” The more Ann talked, the more aroused Anne became. It no longer felt like a foolish accessory but a tool to bring her wife such unique pleasure. She secretly began to wonder who was more excited.

**

Ann was out for lunch with the Priestleys when Cordingly knocked softly on Anne’s office door. She heard a faint “Hmm?” and entered. Anne was scribbling away in her diary, not bothering to glance up.

“I’m sorry to bother you ma’am, but a package just arrived,” she said, offering up a box wrapped in brown paper and tied with white twine.

Anne did a double take, realizing what it was after a beat. She sprang up enthusiastically and whipped the box out of Cordingly’s hand. “Yes thank you, that’s all,” she said brusquely, all but shoving the servant out of the room. She slammed the door and locked it, then leaned her full weight against it and exhaled. _We meet again_ , she mused, a small smile tugging at her lips. She chuckled and brought the package to her desk, slicing the twine away with her letter opener, and tearing at the paper. A card fell out.

“ _Dearest AL, You could only imagine my surprise at your request. Your new friend must be quite persuasive. This is the finest work I think I’ve seen, I do hope you enjoy. You’ll find the design quite advanced, should you have need of any other Parisian delicacies. Affectionately yours, MB.”_

Anne smiled, tossed the note aside, and carefully removed the top of the box. Inside was a harness made of beautiful black leather. Its straps and buckles were small and discreet, and Anne was quite surprised to see, where the leather cock would go, was a hole with notches surrounding the edges. Beside the harness was the cock itself, exactly to Anne’s specifications. It even had a slight curve in it shape. _Oh Miss Barlow, you were never one to miss the details._ It was stuffed tightly with wool, giving it a sturdy but pliable shape. Similar notches were cut into the leather at the base. Finally, Anne observed a leather cord laying in the box and took it out. She observed the three objects and suddenly it clicked.

“What a marvelous idea,” she murmured to herself. The cock could be changed out, allowing them to substitute different versions into the harness without needing to buy new. Advanced, indeed! She sat down at her desk and began joining the pieces together tightly. She turned it over and over in her hands. “Silly looking thing, she mused. “A bit like a toy.” She chuckled. _A “sex toy,” how ludicrous._

When all was done, Anne set the object back in its box and slid it into her bottom drawer, alongside the fateful book that had put this whole situation in action. She unlocked the office door and hurried downstairs to the kitchen, where the servants were preparing dinner. “Where’s the oil?” Anne asked tersely.

Hemingway looked up, caught off guard by the odd question. “Err, shelf above the basin ma’am. Whatever for?”

Anne gave her a sharp look as she crossed the kitchen and whipped open the cabinet door. “Science,” she said simply, grabbing the bottle off the shelf and retreating the way she came.

Oil in hand, Anne ascended the stairs, collected the box, and withdrew to her bedroom. She set the oil down on the windowsill and propped the blinds up, giving her some much-needed privacy.

Anne slid her skirt and petticoats down, and removed her breeches. She then removed her waistcoat and cravat, and undid the buttons on her shirt, leaving it hanging open on her chest as her last vestige of modesty. She fumbled with the harness, suddenly glad to be alone. _Mortifying_ , she thought, at the concept of Ann watching her work the straps for the first time in so many years.

After a few minutes of tightening and loosening things, Anne finally felt comfortable. The leather was softer than she’d anticipated, and when secured properly she actually felt sort of…confident? She looked at herself in the mirror. “Hmm.” She moved her hips back and forth a bit, finding herself blushing at the display as the object wobbled. She walked around the room, getting the feel of it when she suddenly heard the creaking of the stairwell.

“Oh hell,” she cursed. She panicked, doing up a few up a few buttons of her shirt, before abandoning it to slip her breeches on. The steps were slow, as if distracted. She yanked her petticoat on and reached for the skirt, slung carelessly onto the bed, trying to find the opening through the cascades of fabric. The steps were on the landing now. Anne had the skirt on just as the door swung open. In strode Ann, preoccupied with a handful of letters.

“Hello love,” Ann said absentmindedly, flicking through the envelopes in-hand. “You’ve got a letter from Copenhagen, and another from Rome.”

“Oh wonderful,” Anne mumbled, back turned to her wife as she desperately tried to maneuver the cock into the waistband of her skirt.

“Where shall I put them?” Ann looked up, now noticing her wife’s unusual posture. “Are you alright?”

“I’m always alright,” Anne replied, turning around slowly. _Please stay, please stay, please stay,_ Anne silently prayed to the cock.

Ann suddenly took stock of the room; the drawn blinds, Anne’s skirt half backwards and buttons undone, her awkward stance. Her waistcoat and cravat were crumpled on the floor. “What’ve you done this time?” It was more of a statement than a question. She dropped the letters on the chest at the foot of Anne’s bed and crossed her arms.

“I-I haven’t the faintest idea what you could mean!” Anne stammered, making her way around Ann to shut the door.

“Something’s queer,” Ann objected. She walked over to the blinds and began collapsing them. “You never put these up in day.”

“Well…” Anne began, slowly crossing the room to her young wife. Ann turned to lean against the windowsill expectantly.

“Well?”

“Well…”

“Oh Anne, spit it out.”

Anne came close to her wife, put her arms on either side of her against the sill. “I received something in the mail today…” she said lowly.

Ann rolled her eyes exasperatedly. “Yes, _I told you_ , a letter from Copenhagen and another from Rome. I said it a moment ago.”

Anne bit her lip, and pressed her hips into Ann. “ _Not those_ ,” she growled. She watched Ann’s eyes look down, saw the wheels turn in her head as she felt an unexpected bulge against her.

“Oh…” the blonde choked out.

“Mhmm,” Anne replied, pressing again. She brought her face close to her wife’s, running her nose along her jawline. “I think you’ll rather enjoy it.” Ann’s eyes fluttered shut, and her breath hitched with anticipation. Anne flicked her tongue against Ann’s earlobe. “I think that tight cunt won’t be so tight when I’m done with you.”

“Oh Lord, Anne, take me to bed,” Ann keened, her head lolling into her wife’s. She felt her legs start to slide apart, while her hips canted up to meet Anne’s slow, deliberate presses.

“In the middle of the day?” Anne chuckled darkly. “Is my wife a common whore?” She pressed the bulge hard against Ann’s crotch, and watched her squirm. The blonde was panting slowly, eyes clenched with focus. “I asked you a question, Ann. You musn’t be so insolent.”

Ann’s eyes opened in a daze. “Y-yes,” her voice quivered. Anne had never seen such a look of lust in her wife’s eyes before.

Anne smiled smugly. “Yes, what?” she cooed, rutting just a bit slower now. Ann whined.

“Yes Anne, I’m a _whore_ ,” she gasped. She slung her arms around her wife’s neck and kissed her deeply. Anne greedily kissed her back, wrapping her arms around the smaller girls waist, bringing them tightly together. She marveled at how desperately Ann ground her hips forward, urgently seeking friction through her layers of skirts and petticoats.

“I bet when I’m not here you just press yourself against anything you can get your hands on, hmm?” The blonde blushed, flashing back to the afternoon early on in their relationship Anne had walked in on an inexperienced Ann her frantically humping a pillow. She moaned shamelessly at the memory.

“Little Ann Walker, such a pervert,” Anne husked. Ann nodded, sloppily kissing along Anne’s cheek, her neck, her ear. “You like being called a pervert, don’t you darling?” This time it was Anne delivering a question as a statement.

“Take me to _bed_ , I need it,” Ann insisted. Suddenly she felt her arms yanked from Anne’s neck and held down forcefully on the windowsill.

Anne’s bared her teeth to her wife. “You will behave yourself, Miss Walker. I will take you to bed when _I_ decide. You will take my cock when _I_ decide. And you will _answer me when I ask you a question._ Do you understand me?”

Ann’s pupils were blown. She stared at the older woman in awe. Slowly she nodded, never breaking her gaze. “Yes, Anne.”

Anne sneered. “You will address me as Miss Lister when I wear this.” She pressed again to drive home her point. “That is the proper way to address one’s mistress, darling, you know that.”

Ann’s jaw quivered with arousal. “Y-yes, Miss Lister.”

“My wife. My deviant whore wife.” Ann nodded at being addressed as such. She bit her lip, using all willpower to keep herself from canting her hips towards the object of her desire. Anne started to pull her skirt and petticoat back down. Ann’s eyes were transfixed by the bulge in her wife’s breaches.

“Sit on the sill and lift your skirts for me. Let me see you,” Anne said firmly.

Ann’s hands trembled as she did what she was told. She slowly started to pull at the layers, collecting them as best she could until only her drawers remained. She spread her legs, revealing her blonde curls to Anne through the cutout of her underclothes. Anne noticed the sheen of arousal staining the girl’s thighs.

Suddenly Anne leaned in. “You tell me if it hurts, alright?” she whispered into Ann’s ear. The younger woman nodded quickly. _She doesn’t understand_ . Anne pulled back, momentarily breaking the spell they were under. “Ann,” she said sternly. The girl’s blue eyes opened. “ _Please_ , tell me if it’s too much.” A small smile flashed across Ann’s lips.

“I love you, Anne,” she said softly. The older woman smiled. “I promise I’ll tell you, but please…” she blushed, “ _please_ keep going.”

 Anne pressed a kiss to Ann’s forehead, and snapped back to character. “Who knew my wife would be such a whore for cock? Can’t stop spreading your legs, hmm?” she growled.

“No ma’am,” Ann moaned eagerly. “Please, please Miss Lister, _take me._ I need it so badly.” Her hips bucked forward desperately.

Anne slowly pulled her breeches down and stepped out of them, revealing the appendage to Ann for the first time. She gasped. It was so alluring, so thrilling, with its deep black color contrasting Anne’s pale skin and white shirt. Anne watched her wife reach for it tentatively, running her index and middle fingers up and down the smooth leather. Anne reached for the bottle of oil on the sill and uncorked it.

“Though I hardly think you’ll need it, but best be safe” she said through a smirk, taking the cork off the bottle.

“May I, Miss Lister? Please?” Ann asked. She looked up into Anne’s dark eyes wantonly; bit the side of her lip as a plea.

Amused, Anne handed her the bottle. “Go on then.”

Ann gently tipped the bottle over, pouring out a thin stream of oil against the leather. She watched the liquid cascade down the curve of the cock, droplets falling down to the floor. Her hand shaking with adrenaline, Ann put the bottle down and turned her attention back to the appendage. She stroked it up and down, rubbing the oil into the smooth material. Both women stared at the display with wonder.

Ann swallowed thickly. “Put it in me.”  Both women were tired of waiting. Anne took the appendage in her hand and placed it at Ann’s entrance, teasing the opening. Ann whimpered obscenely, keening for it. She felt her wife slip the tip in. “Yess,” she whispered.

Slowly Anne slid the full cock inside, watching as the leather disappeared little by little, until her harness was flush against Ann’s blonde queer. The girl sighed with delight at the feeling. As Anne started to pull her hips back, she whined the wretched emptiness.

Anne was transfixed by their joining, coupled with Ann’s moans of delight. In that moment she understood Ann had been right. _She_ was the one doing this. _She_ was the one putting this object inside her wife. _She_ was the one giving her pleasure. The brunette smiled a toothy grin at the thought and thrust her hips forward hard. Ann screamed. Anne marvelled at the display, kept the cock firmly tucked inside her and watched the girl urge her hips forward; begging for friction. _Breathtaking_ , she thought.

Anne kept up the languid pace, content to watch and listen to Ann’s intoxicating responses. “M-my cunt,” she sighed with satisfaction. “Oh Miss Lister yes, so _full_...” Anne was enraptured, watching the ecstacy washing over Ann’s face. Her jaw was slack, her head carelessly tossed back, and her beautiful legs spread wide and desperate.

As Anne pulled her hips back, she stopped with no warning. Ann assumed this was just part of Anne’s deliberate pace, but when she didn’t feel the cock filling her again she whined. “M-Miss Lister?” she asked in a dazed tone. Her eyebrows creased and her eyes fluttered open, searching for answers. All she found was Anne sneering at her.

“Show me how much you desire it.” Ann, too far gone for shame, barely needed a moment to think. She slid to the edge of the sill and started moving her hips, sliding the cock in and out of herself, matching the pace Anne had set just moments ago. “Good girl… my good whore…” Anne remarked lowly. A faint smile graced Ann’s face at the praise.

Anne had always enjoyed watching women lose their manners, lose their _innocence_ , all for pleasure only she could give. But this was something even _she_ had never experienced. Here was her wife, debauching herself with a wanton smile. _We are well-matched indeed,_ Anne mused with pride.

Anne leaned in kiss Ann’s neck as she continued to ride the leather cock, slowly and purposefully. She was content to let her wife pleasure herself for hours if that was what she wanted. But Ann was tired of this dance. It was time to be claimed. She gripped her wife’s neck. “Do you like it?” she whispered innocently. “Do you like knowing my hole is yours?” She felt Anne bite her hard. She gasped but continued. “ _Miss Lister,_ do you like knowing my cunt is stretched as much as it’s e-ever been, from _your_ cock? _”_

Anne’s hips took off. Ann always knew her wife liked her filthy mouth, and she’d used it before to speed things up. Ann moaned brazenly, clutching the back of her wife’s shirt as Anne took her hard. She revelled at the force she was getting, letting her wife have her way with her. “Rub yourself,” she heard Anne order her gruffly.

Ann moaned lightly at the command, and buried her hand in the tight space between them. She rubbed her clit in a frenzy. It was so swollen and hard with desire, so desperate for attention, she scarcely thought she’d last a few seconds. The feel of the wet leather brushing against her hand, knowing Anne was filling her as she so desired, sent her over the edge. Her whole body tensed and spasmed, her queer fluttered around the cock. Ann screamed, unmoved by the servants undoubtedly hearing her fall apart. She thrust her clit against her fingers again and again, riding her pleasure with each passing shockwave. With one final stroke she shuddered. She felt her arousal wash over the leather cock, dripping down the path the oil had taken just a little while ago. Panting and sighing, Ann collapsed into Anne’s strong arms.

Anne kept the cock inside her for a minute holding the panting mess of a woman close. She tried to withdraw but it sent Ann into spasms. She clutched desperately at her shirt sleeves, whimpering meekly. Anne waited a beat before a wolfish grin overtook her. She canted forward sharply. Another needy whine, a frantic clutch at her arms. Anne chuckled darkly. But suddenly the game changed. Ann started to rock herself slightly on her own.

“M-more Anne, _please_ more,” she sighed. She looked up at her wife pleadingly.  “Again. Please, _again_.” Anne smirked at the crazed girl in her arms.

“Get on the bed.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ann *did* say she wanted to be bent over...
> 
> Or, the one where Ann tries to be a pillow princess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is just filth. Thanks always to knownochill for being a thorough and patient beta <3
> 
> Also see if you can spot the line from Game of Thrones.
> 
> Also also more of calling Ann a whore (and a bitch, at her request), so be prepared

Ann pulled herself off Anne's leather cock and slowly stood on shaky legs. She took Anne’s hand in her own and headed for the bed a few steps away. Just as she began to lift herself on to it she let out a surprised yelp; with a great, sudden push and found herself bent over, her torso pressed into the plush mattress while her legs stayed planted on the floor.

“You said you wanted to be bent over, darling,” Anne mused. Her hand was pressed hard into her wife’s back, keeping her still. She marveled at how deeply obedient her wife was capable of being. Moments ago she was grabbing desperately at Anne’s shirt, begging for more, but now that Anne had taken a steady hand to her she lay perfectly still; acutely aware she was not in charge.

“Spread your legs,” she ordered. Ann mewed softly and did as instructed. Anne paused. “Wider.” Again, she complied without hesitation. “Good girl.”

With her free hand, Anne ran slow, teasing fingers along Ann’s wet folds. She was so breathtakingly soft. Anne ghosted a finger across Ann’s sensitive clit, and closed her eyes to relish the airy gasp the girl emitted. Anne wondered if she’d ever been this in love, or in lust, before. She was always the dominant one in the bedroom of course, but Miss Barlow never allowed Anne to take her in such a position, and even Mariana had never let Anne speak to her with such wickedly filthy words. She felt positively drunk on this power her wife had entrusted her with.

Anne suddenly stuck two fingers inside. A choked gasp escaped Ann’s lips. Her hands fisted into the bedding in shock and ecstasy. Anne grinned a toothy grin and held her hand still for a moment before beginning to move rhythmically. Ann rocked her hips, riding the fingers wantonly while pressing her clit into the mattress with each thrust forward. “Anne… _Miss Lister..._ _more_ ,” she groaned.

Anne’s eyebrows lifted. “My whore wife simply can’t be satisfied,” she chuckled darkly.

Ann felt a devious smirk overtake her. “Never.”

Anne removed her fingers, reveling in Ann’s desperate keening at the absence. “Now now, wife,” she admonished, “We must be patient, mustn't we?” Ann bit her lip and nodded, eyes clenched shut in anticipation. Anne grabbed the still-wet leather cock with her arousal-coated fingers and ran it against Ann’s folds, teasing her opening lightly in the process. “Spread yourself for me,” Anne ordered.

It took Ann a moment to understand what her wife wanted. Tentatively, she reached her hands behind her, placed them where thigh met cheek, and spread. She pushed her hips back, revealing everything of herself to Anne.

The vision of Ann displaying herself like this was sincerely mesmerizing. All debauchery and lust and submission. Arousal already beginning to creep down her thighs, here she was desiring more. Anne so enjoyed pushing her wife’s boundaries, revealing the depths of her perversions. The girl had been keen to everything Anne had introduced her to, and this presentation of her sex was no different. “Who knew little Ann Walker could be such a dirty girl,” Anne purred proudly.

“Just for you, Miss Lister.”

Anne pressed the tip of the leather cock to Ann’s swollen clit, watching her hips quake at the sensation. She ran the appendage up and down Ann’s slit, and pressed the tip in to her hole. Ann moaned softly. “What do you say?”

“ _Please_.”

Anne slid the cock in smoothly. Ann sighed at being filled again, letting out an air-light “ _yes”_ at the feeling. Tucked safely inside, Anne moved her hands to Ann’s hips, held her firmly, and began to thrust at an even pace. She could hear Ann’s soft mews, knew she wanted it faster, _harder_. But Anne was all too pleased to continue the buildup. The teasing was often more fun than the climax for her. She enjoyed watching Ann lose her wits. She would move her body in such delicious ways, and babble desperate pleas for more... for _release_.

Anne took the opportunity to run a hand up Ann’s back. She dragged her thumb slowly up each bump of Ann’s spine, all the while keeping her thrusts slow and deliberate. “Do you enjoy being mounted, wife?” Anne asked. She canted her hips forward sharply, a reminder of what was soon to come. Yet...there was an unexpected pause. Anne stilled her hips. “Ann?”

She saw Ann press her face into the bedding, and heard her murmur something inaudible.

“Ann, is something the matter?”

Ann rolled her head to the side to free her mouth. “You’ll think me an absolute pervert,” Ann she finally said, though Anne noticed a proud twinkle in her eye.

“I do think we’ve crossed that threshold,” Anne chuckled, pushing the cock forward as a sort of reminder to the situation they were currently in.

“Anne… I-I want you to take me... as a hound takes a bitch,” Ann sighed.

Anne cracked a smile. _How well I’ve chosen my spouse_.

Ann continued. “I-I want to be on all fours. I want to feel you claiming my cunt. Feel...feel you against my back. _Hard_. That is h-how I want to be mounted. Like an animal…” Ann swallowed thickly. “Take me as a stray bitch in the streets.”

Anne needn’t be told again. She placed a kiss to Ann’s back and withdrew the leather cock. She saw a pleased grin flash across Ann’s face as she started to push herself up, when a crack ripped through the room. Ann cried out in surprise. She collapsed back into the mattress. Anne had struck her harshly on the bum cheek. She hadn’t set out to do it… the impulse had just overwhelmed her in that moment. _She looks so good from behind._ Anne stared with curiosity at how she’d react, and was pleased to see her push her backside out, asking for more.

“My wife is a whore, apparently a stray bitch as well… and now I learn she likes to be struck,” Anne growled. She slapped Ann’s bum again, as harsh as before. “I truly have married the greatest pervert in the kingdom.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Ann sighed.

Anne sneered and struck her again. “The mouth on you alone.”  Ann keened. _Slap._ “How you savor such insults. Utterly pathetic.” _Slap_.

“Yes, Anne, _yes_ ,” Ann begged.

She let loose a particularly stinging blow. “My whore would be wise to remember her manners.”

“I-- _Miss Listerr_ ,” Ann whined. “I-I’m sorry, Miss Lister.” _Slap_.

Ann was panting heavily, hands clutching the blankets with excruciating pleasure. Her backside was hot and stinging. Another blow came down. Ann prayed her wife would keep going, hoped there would be handprint marking. She wanted to look at herself later, exposed in the mirror, and see a reminder of who she belonged to. _Slap_ ... _Slap._

“Good Lord, Ann,” the brunette murmured. The spanking stopped.

Ann whined with confusion, pushed her bum out needily. She felt a finger trace her inner thighs and swallowed heavily.

“You’re...you’ve coated your thighs.” Indeed, the younger woman’s upper thighs were slick and shining with arousal. Anne ran her fingers through the wetness. Then-- _slap_. She kept going, _slap slap slap slap_ , watching her wife’s reactions with reverence. “ _Good Lord_ ,” Anne muttered again, to herself more than Ann. Her backside looked breathtaking, glowing red with pleasure and pain.

It was only then, marveling at the blonde’s thighs, did Anne realize she herself was in a similar way. She was desperate for the stimulation of her clit pressing against harness.

For her part, Ann was all but crying now, so overwhelmed with arousal she was nearly dizzy. All the sensations of the day had been building to this. She so badly wanted to be taken as the girl in the book. It was her turn to be _Marie_ , Miss Barlow be damned.

“On the bed,” Anne ordered with a final slap. “Show me how you want to be fucked.” She’d rarely used that word, only truly saving it for bawdy talk when Ann was in a particularly wicked mood. Today certainly felt as fitting as any of those instances.

Anne watched, amused, as a frantic and panting Ann lifted her overstimulated self onto the bed. She got on all fours and looked over her shoulder. All flirtatiousness had drained from her face, leaving behind only desperation. She looked near to tears with want. Much as an animal would, she lowered her torso to the bedding, offering her cunt up eagerly for Anne to take. Anne just watched, her eyes lidded with lust. She stayed planted on the floor, and cocked her head to the side, as if unsure what her poor wife could want in such a state. “ _Stretch_ _me_ , _pleease_ ,” Ann finally whimpered obscenely.

Anne was satisfied with that. She climbed onto the bed, positioning herself behind her shuddering wife. Ann pushed her backside out again, let her legs spread just a bit further.

“Look at you, Ann. Presenting yourself like a bitch in heat,” Anne growled, running her thumb over Ann’s bum. She keened in response, pressing herself back into the touch.

“ _Your_ bitch,” she sighed desperately.

With no warning, Anne roughly slid the leather cock into Ann’s hole. The girl let out an unbridled scream. All of Shibden could now doubt hear them now. Anne set a bruising pace, taking her wife as hard as she ever had. The bed knocked against the wall in a rhythm familiar to any passersby, and Ann’s wails of pleasure pierced the otherwise quiet evening.

“Must you be so noisy?” Anne barked. “Must _all_ of Halifax know I’ve taken a whore as my companion?” She watched with satisfaction as Ann meekly bit down on the down blanket, using the bedding as a makeshift gag.

Anne was holding Ann’s hips tightly, rutting into her rabidly. She was transfixed by the image of the black leather appendage splitting Ann’s pink lips, with each thrust seemingly getting it slicker and slicker. The words just kept tumbling out. “I love watching my cock split you open, Ann.” The blonde just whined into the blanket, keeping her jaw locked shut.

Anne leaned over the smaller girl, gaining leverage with her thrusts while sliding her right hand around to run a fingertip over Ann’s clit. She suddenly gripped Ann’s hair with her left, yanking her head back. Anne nipped her earlobe hard. “Getting what you wanted, love?” she husked into her ear. Ann keened into the blanket, still firmly clamped in her teeth. Anne released her hair with a push, and brought herself upright to watch the display. She was enraptured watching how Ann’s jaw clenched and flexed, fighting to keep the moans of pleasure contained. How even if this blissed out state, she was still so anxious to do as Anne wanted.

Anne had started to rub her clit more firmly until Ann’s trembling arms finally gave out. She collapsed into the bed, her hips only staying raised from Anne’s firm grip. She was just an object for Anne to fuck now. At first she enjoyed this: riding Ann’s slim frame, pounding her hard into the mattress. The filthy wet sound of cock entering queer was nearly enough to induce climax on its own. And she so liked how easily her wife gave herself up for Anne’s pleasure. But then she began to frown. The blonde was merely... _laying_ _there_. All pleasure, no effort. _That won’t do at all_.

Anne placed her two fingers against Ann’s clit and stopped her thrusting all at once. After a beat, Ann let out a low but curious whimper. Anne pushed her hips forward deliberately, pressing Ann’s clit into the fingers in the process. She stilled again, demonstrating that she wasn’t going to move her hand. Ann let out another whine. She slowly canted her hips, testing to see if Anne would admonish her, but with met with only pleasure as her clit again rubbed against her wife’s fingers. The message was clear. If Ann wanted to climax, she would have to participate.

Shakily, Ann propped herself up on her forearms. She kept the blanket in her mouth and started to rock herself back and forth onto the leather cock, clit brushing fingers with every self-induced stroke. “That’s a good girl,” Anne murmured with satisfaction, beginning to move her hips again.

Ann nodded, more to herself than anything, and started rocking more purposefully. She pushed her hips back especially hard with one go, filling herself, and let out a groan of pure satisfaction. She had such a look on her face; eyes clenched shut, her eyebrows knitted together with intense focus and determination, blanket sloppily hanging out of her mouth; now soaked with saliva. She was bringing her hips down with every thrust, making sure her clit hit Anne’s fingers every time. “That’s it darling, that’s it,” Anne groaned encouragingly, hypnotized by her wife’s cunt impaling itself again and again. “Rub your clit, make it feel so good.”

Ann nodded feverishly. Her motion started to become spastic. She was now keenly focused on pressing into Anne’s fingers rather than riding the leather cock. She rocked in quick, urgent ruts. Her legs started to quake. Anne pressed her fingers up to meet Ann’s urgent movements, and pushed the cock in to the hilt, giving her nothing more than shallow thrusts now. That’s all she needed.

The blanket dropped from Ann’s mouth. She let out a moan of profound pleasure, her whole body quivering. She ground herself down onto Anne’s fingers desperately, overcome by the pressure on her clit paired with the sensation of her queer tightening around Anne’s cock. Her legs splayed wider, and her arms gave way. A smile ghosted over Anne’s face. _Come apart for me._ With one final, impassioned motion, Ann sighed and collapsed.

The pair lay still. The only sound to be heard was Ann’s uneven panting as she tried fruitlessly to catch her breath. She began to bring her legs together and push her hips slightly forward to pull herself off the cock, whimpering with post-climactic shocks at each subtle movement.

Anne frowned at the display. “You think we’re done?”

Ann whined softly. “A-Anne?”

Anne possessively grabbed the blonde’s hips and yanked her back, claiming her wife’s spent cunt. “We’re done when I say we’re done, Miss Walker.” Anne thrust forward roughly; a bed-rattling jolt. “You close your legs when I say you can. And right now, my cock isn’t done with you yet.” Ann moaned. Her legs readily spread.

Anne chuckled at her wife’s submissive nature. She wondered how she’d gone so long without using this appendage. The view alone was breathtaking; her wife shaking on all fours, legs splayed wide… revealing Ann’s _other_ hole. Anne swiped her thumb against it lightly, feeling Ann tense at the surprise touch. “Maybe I’ll claim you here,” she whispered. Even she couldn’t believe the words had left her mouth. _Too far?_ she wondered.

There was less of a pause than Anne had anticipated. “Whatever you wish, _Miss Lister_ ,” Ann sighed with surprising confidence. She pushed her hips back lustfully.

“My whore wife,” Anne snickered with amusement. _Certainly not the pet name I’d envisioned for my betrothed._ She swiped her thumb against the tight hole again and again, reveling in Ann’s spastic reaction.

“ _Yess_ ,” Ann responded with pleasure. “Yes, your whore. _Yours_.”

 


End file.
